Thorns of Twilight
by Elz Durden
Summary: YNM Gothic Style Did you ever care for me? Didn’t it ever occur to you that sharing my pain with you was the purest thing anyone could have given you?. Complete. Please review. Starting next project
1. Default Chapter

Yami No Matsuei - Thorns of Twilight  
  
"For seventy five years, I have lived in darkness, dreading and longing for the light I shall never see. No golden haze shall greet these eyes and no sweet kiss of sunlight's caress will warm this pallid skin. For I am one of the damned."  
  
The pen slipped from his slender fingers as amethyst eyes scanned the all too familiar script before him. How many times had he tried to put into account his life, and how many times had it been doomed for the fire that burned so brightly in the heavy stones behind him? For all their intensity, the flames in the fireplace did little to warm the massive castle that smelled faintly of the grave.  
  
Forever young, he pushed a strand of chocolate colored hair back from his porcelain face, the tips of it resting just beneath his strong, though faintly feminine, jaw-line. He needed to finish it. It would be the only inheritance he could hope to offer -him-.  
  
Thoughts of the emerald eyed youth coursed through his mind. Haunting fragments of the few times he had allowed himself within easy distance of the object of his desire. So young, yet so jaded. The only living soul who seemed to be a reflection of his own inner turmoil.  
  
"Tsuzuki?"  
  
The voice, for all it's calm demeanor, came like a splash of ice water, shocking him from his thoughts.  
  
Turning from his desk, Tsuzuki faced the new comer. Tall and clothed in crushed velvet that matched perfectly the shadows he had just taken form from. Light brown hair fell loosely around the silver frames of his glasses. Being an immortal, he didn't need them, but Tsuzuki often felt he kept them simply for the air of refinement they lent to an otherwise commanding face.  
  
"Tatsumi, what are you doing up here?"  
  
"You're thinking about him again." It wasn't a question. "I suppose it's pointless to tell you what will happen when the Master finds his favorite pet is seeking new company." Moving on without a pause, he covered the distance between the two with a graceful step as he spoke. "The Master wishes to see you."  
  
Pushing back from the desk, Tsuzuki rose, repressing a sudden shiver. "Muraki." He whispered the word under his breath, coating it in all the profanity of silence. "What does he want?"  
  
Though it was painfully clear the question needed no answer, Tatsumi's voice filled the chamber with a gentle echo. "You know, as your creator, he cannot track your mind. He grows impatient with your avoidance of the coven and requests a visit." Had all the emotion not been wiped from his soul from centuries of service, Tsuzuki could have sworn he heard. pity? Chuckling, he walked over to the fireplace, his fingers resting lightly on the marble mantle. Several retorts came to mind, mostly concerning what Muraki could do with his requests, but his earlier warning had not been forgotten. If he did not go, the Master would know he was up to something. It wouldn't be long before he found out about his emerald eyed angel. "You won't tell him, will you?" He whispered, all emotion drained from his gem-like eyes.  
  
There was a long pause.  
  
"No. There will be no need. You will not seek Hisoka out again. You will forget about him and let him live out his mortal years as he was meant."  
  
"I never said it was my plan to bring him into this."  
  
"You didn't have to." Tatsumi's voice grew softer. "I have watched you, watching him. The passion in your face. You looked almost. human."  
  
Mauve eyes widened in surprise as he turned, greeted only with the faint rustling of the massive draperies that hung over the arched windows. 


	2. Mists

Night had fallen, bringing with it the cold this land was famous for. The young man pulled his coat tighter, ignoring the sting of the bitter winds against his face, focusing instead on the misted over road in front of him. Only a fool or a mad man would be caught out this late and in the middle of winter to boot. Chuckling at the thought, Hisoka wonder which he was. Probably a bit of both, but what choice did he have? The dangerous of openly traveling at night were nothing compared to what was waiting for him back home. With a shudder, he envisioned the small, windowless room in which his parents had a nasty habit of locking him in when the mood suited them. No more. He would never go back there. Never again would they get the chance to treat him like some sort of a monster. He would die first.  
  
-That can be arranged-  
  
Hisoka was pulled from his thoughts by the shadowy figure who took shape on the road before him. Halting in his tracks, he rose his arms up into a defensive stance, ignoring the obvious disadvantage of his smaller size. Even as his hands tightened into fists, recognition drew across his face. Born with the curse of being able to read emotions, he immediately picked up on the unnatural lack of feeling coming from the figure before him. It was like a block of sheer willpower kept him locked out from the inner workings of this seemingly simple man.  
  
"Tsuzuki." He said dully, pushing his hands back into the warmth of his pockets. The figure took a step forward, moving through the light mist until the familiarly warm and smiling face of the older man came into focus.  
  
"Imagine, running into you! And at such a late hour!" A hand reached out and messed up his honey stung hair. The voice matched perfectly the bemused look on his face, a light of pleasure flashing in those lavender eyes. "Why. could it be that Hisoka was looking for me?"  
  
Pulling away from the other's touch, he clicked his tongue before brushing past him, shoulders hunched down. "Fool. Like I would seek you out."  
  
Undaunted, Tsuzuki feel into step next to the boy, his long coat swaying with each step. The steady rhythm of their steps filled the night air with soft beats. Hisoka fixed his eyes on the road before him, doing his best, (and failing) to ignore the attention of the man walking next to him.  
  
Several minutes past. The longer he felt Tsuzuki's eyes on him, the more self aware he felt. He wondered how much of the blush rising to his face was being covered by the slight rose color the cold had kissed his cheek. Apparently not enough.  
  
"Have I embarrassed Hisoka?" His voice was a light chuckle. "Surely he wouldn't be getting worked up by my presence?"  
  
Rolling his eyes, the young man let out a puff of white breath, hoping his voice wouldn't betray the truth of his emotions. "Do you mind? I didn't ask for your company. And as strange as you are, I'm sure even -you- have to think it odd that I should just happen upon you. Why were you waiting for me?"  
  
-So cold-  
  
The smile didn't falter from his face, but it no longer seemed to reach his eyes. "Is it a crime to enjoy such a beautiful night?"  
  
"Feh." There was nothing beautiful about this night. Not unless one considered the way the stars shone off the frost the covered the landscape a thing of beauty. And to a nearly frozen traveler, it was far from good- looking. "Go away." He wasn't in the mood for this. There was a time he would have found comfort in Tsuzuki's company, but tonight, he was not in the mood for his riddles and mystery. He really did just wish to be left alone to wander. It wouldn't be long before his family sent out riders to collect him and before that bitter moment of defeat, he'd like to enjoy what peace was left to of the night.  
  
The footsteps beside him slowed. For an instant, a strong feeling of pity washed over him. No, compassion, understanding with intense melancholy and. and what? Pausing, he struggled to hold onto the thread of emotions, only to have them fade once in focus. He turned his head back to the man. The faint hint of a smile was still lingering on his face though his eyes seemed distant. A second later, the idiotic grin flashed back over his face, and with a tilt of his head, he waved.  
  
"Sorry to disappoint you, but I have somewhere I need to be. I do hope you can forgive me, after going through all that trouble of seeking me out."  
  
"What?! Fool! I did not seek you out! I-." Before the last of the sentence could be voiced, the man was nothing more than a shadow retreating back down the road, swallowed back into the mist. It was only than that Hisoka took in his surroundings. The familiar giant trees lining the roadside, naked of leaves. Faintly he could hear the sound of running water. An unseen creak made its path nearby. Realization dawned over him as he slowly turned, the castle looming like a giant rising from the haze.  
  
Unknowingly, his footsteps had lead him back to the same spot where he had first stumbled upon the amethyst eyed man. Blinking in confusion, he brushed his hair back from his face, casting another glance towards the direction where Tsuzuki had traveled.  
  
"I did not seek you out?" He whispered the question to the night.  
  
The sound of horse hooves falling against cobblestone rose up into the silence of the night. Shouts of pursuit dotted the air. "He's up here!"  
  
Hisoka could only stand there numbly, waiting for his family to drag him back to the prison that was his home. That didn't trouble him as much as the earlier events of the night. Was he loosing his mind?  
  
From the rooftop of his castle, he watched the young man be collected by the riders, not even struggling as he was lifted onto the back of a straddle.  
  
-Maybe it's for the best, Bon. It's hard now, but that's how life is.- Nodding as if confirming his thoughts, Tsuzuki sighed. It had been a shock to sense him so close to his home. As if his soul had known their time together was drawing to an end. Chuckling, he chided himself. -Such nonsense.-  
  
Turning, he faded into the night. His Master would be upset if he was kept waiting.  
  
-This is for the best, Bon. May life show you the kindness it denied me.-  
  
Despite the nature of his parting thoughts, he was filled with a heavy foreboding. Only someone marked for death would seek him out. 


	3. Desiderium

"Why do you keep running away?" The red-head tenderly placed a damp rag on the fresh bruise decorating Hisoka's cheek. It hadn't been more than a handful of hours since he was brought back to the main house and already his father had sought to remind him of his place. He was too valuable as the first born son to be allowed freedom. That simple fact had been reinforced his entire life, always sheltered from the other children, always made to believe he was sick and somehow different. He supposed his family wasn't entirely wrong. As her hand gently stroked the cloth over his face, flashes of her emotions filled his mind in a faint echo.  
  
-Compassion. Care. Understanding.-  
  
Wakaba was the only one that didn't feel some level of fear from the emerald eyed boy. Because of that, he could stand to be touched by her. She was the only one he would allow this near to him without withdrawing into himself. Maybe, because soon, she would be past all fear.  
  
Trying to see through the swollen eye, he could dimly make out her face. -She's gotten so pale- "You shouldn't be pushing yourself for me." He said softly, leaning further back onto the mat, doing his best to ignore the sharp pain in his ribs.  
  
Giving him what he was sure was a bright smile, she rung out the rag, sitting back on her heels. "It's no problem, really! I can't do much else around the main house, so the Mistress said I should tend to you. Besides," she winked, "It's never a chore to be in such fine company."  
  
"Hmm." He muttered, his eyes fluttering closed with sleep.  
  
The young girl smiled gently as she pulled the covers up around him. He had such an innocent look when he slept. He almost looked like the carefree teenager he should have been, would have been, if only he hadn't been cursed with this family.  
  
Sighing, she gracefully rose to her feet and moved into the hall, pulling the bars of his cell shut with a soft "clink".  
  
"Why do you keep running away?" Silk lips purred against his ear, with breath as wintry as the skin that framed them. "Do you not enjoy our games?"  
  
He involuntarily tried to pull back, causing the chain around his neck to tighten. Immortal flesh could still be abused and he was far from matching his Master, his Creator, in strength. Thoughts tumbled against thoughts. He had known he was in trouble when he was greeted at the door, not by the Master himself, but one of his fellow fledglings.  
  
There was no point in running from the soft beckoning hand and no mistaking the heartbreaking pools of emotion behind those soft, golden eyes.  
  
As they walked towards the inside of the chapel, moving through the tall pillars of bone-white marble, past the staring faces of saints and sinners alike, captured in mosaic art, he found the weight of this place unbearable. It settled around his shoulders, the last bit of warmth he had felt at the sight of the youth, stolen away.  
  
"I was checking up to see what was taking you so long. You know the Master cannot enter your mind as I can."  
  
Tsuzuki's stomach lurched with a wave of nausea, realizing all too late what had been bugging him since leaving his home.  
  
The sickness didn't settle as his friend continued.  
  
"Of course, if I had known you were watching Bon, I would have made my excuses to the Master. That little slip of speaking was a warning to you. You've never call him "Bon." He shook his head with a sad sigh, causing the cascade of rich blonde hair to spill over his shoulder. "Why do you choose to suffer so?" He, like Tatsumi, chose to continue wearing glasses, but it had been at the order of the Master he did so. Such a reminder of irony was something that pleased their cruel father to no end. Watari had been a genius of alchemy before the Mater had pulled him from his life of science. How bitter it must have been to realize all that superstitious "nonsense" he had spent his whole life disproving, would become his cage for the rest of eternity.  
  
Swallowing hard, Tsuzuki hardly recognized the harsh tones that created his voice. "How much does he know?"  
  
The man walking before him paused, pushing open the massive double doors as if they were nothing more than tissue paper. The steel frames parted, revealing his Master's personal, sadistic playroom, which looked more the part of the dungeon. He knew without a doubt, he was going to be punished but would it include the life of his mortal companion.  
  
"He knows you are watching someone and that person has caught your interest. That's all he was able to gather from my intrusion on your mind. You know how poorly secondary links work."  
  
Tsuzuki slipped up against the wall. He needed no prompting, years of practiced pain had drilled this exercise into the very fabric of his being. Maybe at one point, he had sought to fight against what was to come next, but those memories were as distant and surreal as the ones of when he had walked under the sun as a mortal. The faint rustling of iron against iron whispered into the room. The thin studded metal chocker clamped around his neck, forcing his head back, his eyes rising to meet the angelic features cast in the unchanging colors of autumn. Even now, the faintest hint of smiling lines traced the edges of his lips and eyes. He must have been so filled with life and passion to still bear these suggestions of mortality.  
  
"Did you tell him about-?"  
  
"No." Giving him a faintly sad smile, he gave a final tug to the thick leather straps, binding his arms to the cold stone of the walls. "Nor will I. Your continued attention is more of a death warrant than anything I could speak. Take your punishment and learn from it, Tsuzuki. Of his entire coven, he values you the most. None of us are as jealously guarded, nor as strictly watched. Had Tatsumi not pleaded on your behalf, you would still be tied here." "He. he did what?" This was the first time he had heard anything about the oldest of Muraki's Children. Surely he was nothing more than a cold and heartless extension of the master? If anything, he was always indifferent to Tsuzuki.  
  
"Don't tell him I said anything." Watari almost chuckled, picking the thoughts effortlessly from his friend's mind. "He's as distant as you think, but not as unfeeling." Giving him a final encouraging smile, he turned away in a flare of ginger colored hair, vanishing almost at once.  
  
Seconds later, he felt, more than heard the approach of his Master.  
  
How many hours had past since then, he could only guess. Blood made for poor sand and his body was no hourglass, for anguish was the only measure of time that would count here.  
  
"Who is she, my beloved?" The lips lowered to his neck, brushing against the soft skin, resting against the steady pulse of the vein there. Gods, how he hated that voice, speaking with all the lazy tones of a well fed jungle cat, just as raping on his senses as anything physical could ever be. "Of course," he continued, each word causing his lips to caress him, "I could force one of the others to tear it from your mind. But they don't have the same. tender. touch, I do. No, I don't think anyone else deserves to break you. How delightful that you've allowed yourself something else I can destroy."  
  
Blood tears rose up to rim his eyes in a blur of crimson against violet. Threatening to spill at the thought of what this monster would do if he ever got a hold of Hisoka. Death could be the very best he could hope for.  
  
"I think you and I shall need a few days together, at least." Seconds later, a sharp white flame of pain shot up from his neck, pulling at his sanity as well as his lifeblood. There was nothing passionate about his Master's feasting. No sharing of emotions, no bond. His Master didn't feed on them for such reasons. For him, it was like branding his property, taking back the unnatural strength he had gifted them with, one mouthful at a time. Feeling the first tug of weakness, his head slumped forward, pulling harder against the leather chocker. He felt himself being raised up, the press of lifelessly chilled arms encircling his waist. Darkness filled his eyes, even as the tears held therein spilled free in streaks of cherry down his ashen face.  
  
He didn't need a mental link with Muraki, the message was all too painfully clear as he finally gave into the blessed hold of unconsciousness.  
  
-You are mine. Forever.- 


	4. Still Memories

Chapter Four: Still Memories  
  
Days turned into nights and nights gave way to the stirring of winter's dance. The bare trees were soon coated in thin layer of ice. His portal to the outside world was frosted over, saved a small square of glass in the middle. From here, he could watch the comings and goings of the courtyard. Servants busying themselves with clearing the cobble stone walk ways of snow, maids carrying full arms of laundry to the wash house, important people coming to speak with his parents. On the street just beyond the gates, horse drawn carriages clattered along, the driver's breath coming in white puffs.  
  
The world moved on, with or without him. Hisoka knew this and nothing could touch the melancholy this thought settled on his soul. The bruises on his face and ribs had healed into faint shades of green. Horrid to look at, but it no longer pained him to breathe, nor smile, should he choose too. It had been weeks since he had made his attempt to escape, as ill- conceived as it was. He needed only wait till the bitterness and loathing he felt towards his family rose back up to the surface and he would once again race across those very same courtyards, seeking a freedom he knew he could never have. The servants were easy enough to bribe, those that weren't greedy still felt pity for the youth. No, that was never the problem. It was the simple truth that he had no where else to go. The villagers would turn him out as soon as look at him for no one wished to risk the wraith of his family. Concealing his features wasn't much of an option. Locks of hair that woven an impossible shade of beaten wheat with streaks of sun-kissed blonde and such jade-colored eyes were unheard of and easy to recognize.  
  
-Browns and black eyes, all of them.- No, that's not true, he corrected himself. - Wakaba has a wonderful eye color, two different shades. And that fool.-  
  
He glanced away from the window, pulling the silk kimono tighter around his slender chest.  
  
-It was because I was avoiding the village that I ended up taking that path. I could have easily gone to the left, seeking the mountain forests or even chancing the harsher wilds of the east. But instead, I kept going straight, picking my way through an undergrowth that must have been untouched for years.-  
  
How clearly he recalled every detail of that faithful day.  
  
Twilight had just pushed itself into the blue of day, forcing the sun to fall against the horizon. The thick bramble of wild raspberries and wild thorn vines came nearly up to his chest, their sharp barbs reaching for his clothing and the soft skin underneath. Yet on he pushed, moving further and further away from the beaten dirt path. Why he had moved forward with all the single mindedness of someone trying to reach a goal confused him, even now in memories. All he knew was that he -had- to keep moving.  
  
Just as the last light was draining from the day, he had stumbled quiet suddenly into a clearing. Amazed and slightly dazed at the abrupt ending of the shrubbery, he glanced back, gently rubbing his cut and bleeding hands. This was no ordinary clearing. The wild bushes had been carefully cut back, framing the massive yard in a huge half circle. Turning, Hisoka's eyes widened as he noticed the faint outlining of a castle, rising from the darkness.  
  
-How had I missed such a thing from the road?-  
  
"Because, it's hard to find something that you aren't looking for. These old buildings have a way of fading into their surroundings."  
  
Tensing at the soft voice which broke the silence, the young man turned, picking out the source of the voice. A shadowy figure stood leaning against one of the trees that dotted the hedges. Besides the masculine voice, it was impossible to tell more about him as if he was wearing the darkness. Hisoka was too startled at the appearance of the stranger to even wonder if he had voiced his question out loud.  
  
"However, next time, I suggest you use the road, boy." There was a faint amused tone to the voice as well as a hint of mockery. "You'll find my front door easier to access than the back."  
  
Hisoka was never one that fell easily to extreme emotions, but once a nerve was struck, his temper was nothing short of terrifying. He disliked the contempt of the speaker's voice, but what really shook him was the fact he hadn't been able to -sense- the newcomer. Even now, the silence of his mind was unnerving and unnatural. It made him on edge and very alert.  
  
-This person, I sense something very strange about him.-  
  
"My name isn't boy. It's Hisoka." He said, low and even.  
  
Without realizing it, he had taken a step back, slightly rising his hands into a defensive position. There was something not right about this person. He could -feel- it.  
  
"Why not come out of the shadows and we'll see how tough you talk without their security."  
  
To his added astonishment, the figure simply chuckled, a light, almost sad sound.  
  
"You're bleeding, in poor health and even trespassing, yet you don't apologize for intruding on my home. To top it off, you seek to make me the criminal by insulting my honor as a host and hinting me a coward."  
  
The speaker stepped away from the tree, moving into the clear light of a freshly risen moon.  
  
Hisoka felt his breath catch in his throat at the sight of the man.  
  
It wasn't the chocolate colored hair that fell loosely around his face, nor even the gentle, almost feminine features it framed that caused his soul to shiver. For as the man stepped closer to him, he rose his eyes to lock with his own steady gaze.  
  
They were violet. And not just a simple shade of lavender. They were all the colors of an amethyst and each faucet reflected so much sorrow, that for an instant, Hisoka thought he might drown in it.  
  
Soft, cold fingers lightly touched the side of his face, brushing away a strand of hair from his cheek. -How did he get so close? Wasn't he just by that tree?- Hisoka instincts were screaming at him to pull back, to end the contact and get as far away from here as he could. But try as he might, nothing made that connection to his muscles and he remained frozen, hands slowly lowering to his sides. The words of anger died on his lips, his throat locked up as surely as if someone had pinched it shut. The longer his fingers stayed pressed against his flesh, the harder it became to breathe. As if some drug was overpowering him, it was becoming nearly impossible to keep his eyes focused.  
  
Those shocking gem-like eyes studied his face, blurring in and out of range.  
  
"You're cute when you're quite." He seemed to decide something and slowly drew his hand away. "You have a fever. I suggest you rest. Your little trip through my garden couldn't have done you any favors."  
  
"I." Hisoka felt the ground give away, overwhelmed by the sudden pounding in his head. He could feel his cheeks flush with color as the man reached forward, easily catching him in his arms. He hadn't noticed it before, but the long coat the man was wearing was made of crushed black velvet and felt like heaven against his feverish skin. A whispered scent of cherry blossoms teased his senses and than darkness.  
  
Everything after that was obscure. Bits and pieces of it came back to him, especially when he was nearing that fine line between dreams and reality. Thinking about it was a guaranteed headache, but from what he could gather the stranger had either brought him to the front of the main houses gates, or he had stumbled back there himself three days later.  
  
By the time he had recovered from the fever enough to move about, Hisoka was torn between thinking the happenings a dream and the many healing cuts and scrapes from thorns that told him otherwise. Part of him begged to just leave it alone the. But there were too many questions and only one person that could give him answers.  
  
Looking back on it now, the youth wondered if he had been doomed from the first second he decided to go straight instead of left. It seemed a catalyst to the chain of events that are long since out of his control, losing him in a strange mixture of fate and insanity. Maybe he could have just written the whole thing off as a waking reverie and maybe he would have been better for it.  
  
Amethyst eyes haunted his dreams and come spring, he left the main house again. Only this time he wasn't running away.  
  
His footsteps lead him straight to the castle without encouragement or much thought. As it loomed up before him, Hisoka paused, amazed at how differently the place looked from the front. The circle of thorn bushes from the back closed around the building's sides in an embrace of foliage. Gripping and climbing up the ancient bricks, the bramble dominated the castle walls.  
  
-A castle of thorns.- 


	5. I Must Be Dreaming

Shaky eyes fluttered open, finding only pitch black darkness in greeting. The air was stale and humid. It smelled like earth and as he became more aware of his surroundings, panic gripped his heart.  
  
-No. Please, not this. I can't stand this.-  
  
The closed in wooden box didn't allow enough space for him to turn his head, or raise his arms from his chest. He felt weak and it was that feeling that stopped the screams in his throat from rising to his lips and voicing themselves. Not that anyone would hear.  
  
Ruthlessly, the memories stirred in his mind, waiting. Weakened as he was from his Master's feeding, he could no longer keep up the barriers that created the complex balance of his mind. Like waves, they came tumbling out, spilling one after another. It was dangerous, it was folly, but unwilled, a thought pulled itself from the tidal and came into the sharp focus of a dream.  
  
/"So, you've come back, boy."  
  
"My name is Hisoka!"  
  
With a smile, the tall man moved from his post at the door frame, walking towards the fiery youth as if he was receiving an expected friend. Of course, he had known, sooner or later, the boy would return. The sight of him stirred the hunger, a tightening of muscles that nearly made him grind his teeth in need. The scent, the very feel of his energy on the air was invigorating, more so than it had ever been with any other mortal before. He was a sensitive, Tsuzuki didn't doubt, but it went further than that. Someone that full of passion would seek out satisfaction from mystery. Even with the gift clouding the youth's mind as it was, he wasn't surprised that he had recovered enough to find him. Not that he would admit, even to himself, that he hadn't really tried to erase this young ones memories of that night.  
  
He stopped a few paces from him, watching him with a calm demeanor.  
  
"You've come again to my home. To what do I owe the honor?"  
  
"You know perfectly well why I'm here!"  
  
"Do you think I can read minds, boy?"  
  
Of course, he could. But respect kept him from brushing aside the feeble curtain covering his thoughts. It would spoil the dance to ruin all mystery this early into it. The hunt was always more enjoyable than feeding. He could wait. The fact that he would taste him soon enough was thrilling.  
  
"Damn you! You don't even try to deny I was here before, do you?" "Why should I? Was it a crime to return a fever struck boy to his home? Or are you angry because I -did- return you?"  
  
Striking his arm out to the side, Hisoka closed the distance between them, anger evident on his attractive features. "You. you aren't natural! You don't belong here!"  
  
Tsuzuki rethought his judgment to the boy being -highly- sensitive. And that could make him dangerous. These thoughts did not show, as the taller man flashed the youth a small, extending a hand as an invite. "Why don't you come inside?"/  
  
-No, stop it! Stop! Damn you!-  
  
Even though the layers of thick earth, he could hear the mocking laughter. "So, Tsuzuki. It's the young boy that's caught your interest. The Master was sure it was the copper haired girl. Shall we see more? I think you need to see more."  
  
The thoughts became heavy, closer to the surface and deeper all at once.  
  
/It wasn't until I saw my home as he did that a simple fact made a painful homecoming. It was more like the last resting place of a forlorn nightmare, than the monument of time it had once been.  
  
When reflected in his disdainful emerald eyes, I saw all that was missing in my world, saw the haunt I had let myself become. -It wasn't always this way, my life, my home, this place. It was once filled with laughter. You must believe me, though I hardly believe it, anymore.-  
  
"Do you live here by yourself?"  
  
-Always lonely, but never alone.- I thought to myself, pausing as he had, to regard the question. My fingers left a trail against the dust on the banister of the stairs. -How long had it been, since I last stirred? How long had I slept, until, like an insect against a web, I felt him intrude on my seclusion?-  
  
"I have company, from time to time. Mostly I keep to myself. The world has a way of moving around the naive."  
  
He scoffed, looking away from me. "You don't seem naïve to me. You have a simple look and manner to you, but what I sense isn't so straightforward."  
  
"I thought you said you sensed nothing from me." I mused with a hint of humor. "Doesn't get more straightforward than that."  
  
"Even a fool has emotions." He countered without missing a beat. I loved it. "That means your blocking me out. A straightforward person wouldn't have things to hide, as you seem so desperate to do. It's your silence that condemns you."  
  
I nodded my head, not in agreement, but in acknowledgement. I didn't know what he wanted from me, but I knew very well what I wished from him. The repartee of the living was something I had forgotten and the thrill of playing such a game was invigorating. Dangerous, I knew it then. As soon as I saw him as more than food, it was inviting doom. Keeping such a soul around wasn't wise, I knew, -knew- it would attract attention. But the sins of desire can only be killed by satisfaction.  
  
//Tsuzuki//  
  
"Tell me something, Hisoka. Do you hate me?"  
  
The question caught the youth off guard. He recovered almost at once, but not before the cool mask of composure slipped enough to show uncertainty. "Fool. I don't care either way. If I hated you, it would be feeling something. As it is, other people's emotions flow into me against my will and from you, there is nothing."  
  
"Can't you decide your emotions over something for yourself? Or do you always just take what you are given?"  
  
"I was never given a choice. My entire life, I've always invoked powerful feelings from those around me. Before I even understood my own emotions, I was flooded with the prejudice sentiments of others."/  
  
//Tsuzuki!//  
  
His brow furled, a thin cough tugging on his lungs as he became aware of himself again.  
  
//Watari? Is that you?//  
  
//Finally! Yes, it's me! Where are you?//  
  
//In the crypt.//  
  
//Really? I didn't even know that chamber was still open. Listen, did Oriya do anything to you?//  
  
-Oriya?- His eyes cracked open. //Oriya was here?//  
  
There was a pause.  
  
//God, the Master really did a number on you. Oriya just came from the crypts. I happened to bump into him on my way from the Master's chambers. I didn't get much, but from what I could gleam, he had images of Bon in his mind.// Even in thought speech, Tsuzuki could feel Watari's fear and dread, mingling with his own. Oriya, the Master's most loyal servant and most powerfully gifted with the Mind. //Why does Oriya have information about Bon?//  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
The young man pushed off the covers, swinging his legs over the side of his bed with a sigh. Tonight was one of those spring evenings were it was too warm to be comfortable and it left him feeling restless.  
  
-Maybe a walk would ease my mind.-  
  
It was an odd mood to be sure. Usually, he was able to write off such things and sit in a stupor until it was time to "escape" again. It took extremes of emotion to stir him to action that was just his way. But tonight was different. Tonight, it felt like the stars where holding their breath.  
  
Glancing out his window, he rose to his feet, slipping them into the wooden sandals at his bedside.  
  
-A red moon.- 


	6. Foreboding

The earth parted under his pale fingers with ease, revealing the soil-caked top of a worn and timeless casket. Even with his inhuman strength, the man's forehead faintly gleamed with blood-tinged sweet. Catching his breath, Watari did a mental check of the coffin's contents. It was faint, but the pulse of thoughts came back at him like a lamenting echo. Whatever feelings coupled the presence; he didn't wish to know and mentally drew back as if he had touched something hot. Once again, his friend was in danger of losing something dear to him and there was no guessing at how, or if he would be able to recover. It was like racing to catch an empty shell before it hit the ground. The damage had long ago been done, but the hope that he could be refilled was still -something-.  
  
"Oi! Stay with me, Tsuzuki. I almost have you out of there!"  
  
"I would have thought you would know better."  
  
His hands froze, still caked with earth. The golden haired man spun around to the source of the voice. So cold, so composed. A voice that gave nothing as hints of emotion or life, just like the shadows that lingered around him like fine material.  
  
"Sneaking down here like this, it's not like you. The Master would not be pleased by this."  
  
Watari took a step to the side, placing his back to the half unearthed coffin, putting himself between it and Tatsumi. "We can't stand by and do nothing, Tatsumi! He doesn't deserve this!"  
  
"We're killers, Watari. Our very existence is a sin. Our only solace is not in the world of the mortals, but in our coven." A slender hand reached up, pressing against the silver ridge of his glasses. "Being delusional about that will get you killed or driven insane like the old ones. Never forget that."  
  
Taken aback by the words, Watari's shoulders visibly hunched, making the man seem smaller then he was. His voice grew very soft, rich eyes glancing to the ground as if heavy with unspeakable thoughts.  
  
"I never forget. Everything about this place is a constant reminder. No, I hold no delusions about anything, anymore. All I have to look forward to is eternity as a toy to a mad-man." Raising his eyes up, he took a step towards his elder, his face set in an unreadable expression. "But not this time, Tatsumi. We did nothing when the Master killed his sister and brought him into this, though we both vowed our fates wouldn't be known to another. We did nothing when he broke him. We sat there like good little puppets and kissed the hand that killed us, loving the fact that we suffer for the eternal guilt of kin slayers. Not anymore." He finished flatly, turning back to the coffin and gripping his fingers around the hinge of the lid. "I can't save them all. I couldn't even save myself, but if I can save just one, than maybe, just maybe, I'll stop wearing chains in my dreams."  
  
Tatsumi said nothing. Watari hadn't expected him to. But he also didn't move to stop him as he struggled with the coffin lid, finally opening it and sending it crashing to the dirt covered ground. The back side of the lid was covered with deep ruts, carved by the nails of its captives.  
  
The sight was truly horrifying.  
  
All of the Master's fledglings were created in the same abusive, but overall, strengthening manner. Yet Tsuzuki wasn't nearly as gifted as the others, showing no great power or call of his own. He was still so human, still had so many emotions that any Gifts he may have received were lost under the turmoil of his mind. In times of great stress, they would manifest in powerful and frightening ways, but they were like flames, consuming him along with whatever had provoked him.  
  
Watari could have been drained and locked in a coffin, not much worse for wear, nothing that a few feedings couldn't have fixed. Tatsumi wouldn't have looked more than slightly pale by the punishment, probably refreshed and stronger for the rest. It would have taken decades for either of them to reach this stage.  
  
The amethyst eyed vampire before them wasn't more than flesh pulled tightly against bone. Tendons and veins stood out against the skin like cords on display. Angelic, sharp features only made him look more like a skeleton. And why the smell wasn't overpowering, it was faint and lingering, like prolonged death.  
  
There was movement from behind him as Tatsumi stepped forward. He paused next to Watari, his face the unreadable mask it always was. If he was upset by the sight, his voice gave no hint, it was only soft whisper of some vague emotion. It was possible he had been a great speaker in life, able to stir the soul with such a voice, otherwise it would never have been possible to chill the blood without ever speaking above a murmur.  
  
"He'll need to feed. I'll take care of him. You go help the boy. Warn him and get him as far from here as possible. Use your animal familiar. The Master won't be able to sense your Gifts."  
  
"Why are you helping?"  
  
The taller man never paused to answer the question. He leaned down and wrapped his pale fingers into the crumpled material of his friend's clothing. With a soft and fluid motion, he pulled forward, lifting Tsuzuki and taking him into his arms. -God, he's so light. Barely more then the cloth that covers him.-  
  
Tsuzuki's body reacted to the heat, even if his mind was still shut away in memories. Reaching weakly, his hand searched for the closest of Tatsumi's arm, his fingers brushing against the flesh. Even so near to a coma, he could feel the steady, slow pulse of the warm blood there. With a faint moan, his fangs gashed tightly together, hunger an unbearable pain. The weak grip against Tatsumi's arm nothing more then a child's as he tried to pull the flesh to his lips, not wanting to feed, but needing it.  
  
Watching him with mirrored eyes, Tatsumi rested a hand against the back of the man's dark hair. Cradling his head against his broad chest and at the same time, moving the slightly opened mouth closer to the soft underside of his exposed arm. Not even the Master dared to feed on the Shadow Caller. For it wasn't past his power to destroy a mind, even the most powerful of them, with such a private connection of blood. Yet for this one, this tender, almost child-like, humanly weak vampire, he would allow it. Welcome it even. The dull surprise of realizing this did nothing to slow his actions.  
  
Not yet and not here.  
  
He turned away from the coffin, heading back into the shadows holding his precious quarry.  
  
"Oi! Tatsumi, why? Why now?" The former scientist's brow furled in confusion, the soft hints of wrinkles against pallid flesh. In a few more decades, he'd lose even that tiny feature, his skin becoming as marble like as his elders.  
  
The shadow master paused. With his back to Watari, the autumn haired man couldn't see the expression on his face, as he gazed to the broken man hanging nearly life-less in his arms. Years and years ago, the Master had promised the mauve eyed angel to him to Embrace, as a partner, as something to loosen the dark reaches of a soul that even someone like the Master thought cold.  
  
Tatsumi had refused.  
  
But they were all wrong, thinking he didn't wish to Embrace someone so child-like, so care free, someone that would probably be weak and need constant protecting, someone such a total opposite to his own austere personality. But that wasn't true. In this man, he had seen everything he had loved in life and couldn't taint it with darkness. He couldn't stop the Master, but he wouldn't be the one to kill him.  
  
-I always have been selfish, so much like my Gift. Shadows steal their form from light, but I couldn't take yours, Tsuzuki. Instead, I choose to leave you alone in the dark, knowing the Master wouldn't just leave you. The sin would be done and I turned my back to it. I'm such a coward.-  
  
"You don't have time for questions, Watari. The Master left at dusk. Seek the balm for your soul and I shall seek mine."  
  
The shadows rose up from the ground, seeping from the walls until a thick pool of spectral black covered the pair, vanishing as was his style. Where he would take the man, Watari didn't know.  
  
"Tatsumi." He said in hushed tones. -Was there anyone here that didn't end up stained by the dark blood?-  
  
Turning, his white coat flared out behind him like wings and with the same unnatural stealth, was gone.  
  
The crypt darkened into full night. The only light source came from a small cross-shaped window, casting a pool of crimson moonlight onto the broken casket, like the foreboding kiss of some forgotten god.  
  
-What starts in blood, will end in blood.- 


	7. Soft Scream

"Wakaba, what are you doing up?" The young man stopped in his tracks, foot resting back onto the patio in mid-step. He had almost missed the ginger haired beauty, the red moonlight, dim as it was, hid her like a soft veil. The girl didn't answer right away, her glossy eyes focused on a point high above the horizon. Her words were as distant as her gaze.  
  
"They say there's a fire, on the other side of the world and all the smoke from it is causing the sun to reflect red light onto the moon."  
  
Hisoka paused in his gaze at the girl and turned it to the moon. "Where did you hear that?"  
  
"Some of the servants overheard the master speaking about it. They say it's a bad sign. All the souls killed in the fire are like karma, spreading death into the moonlight." As if broken from a spell, she side glanced at him. "The maid I share my room with didn't come to bed tonight. I thought I might be able to find her in the courtyard."  
  
Hisoka's eyes locked onto hers. She looked so soft and touchable, frail and real all at once. At times like this, he could almost forget her time was growing short. He could almost allow the fear of losing her to recede enough to see the beautiful woman before him.  
  
Almost.  
  
"Why would she be in the courtyard at this hour?"  
  
The girl's hesitation and slightly fearful eyes told him all he needed to know to venture a guess. "She's meeting with someone, right?"  
  
The auburn head nodded slowly, her eyes unwilling to meet his.  
  
"Who is it?"  
  
"A lover, I think. A lot of the girls meet with page boys, or hired hands from the nearby estate, all in secret, of course, but its common knowledge that it happens. It's safer that way, knowing but not letting it be known. That way, if there's trouble, the servants know where to look."  
  
"So her meeting place is the courtyard?" He asked, piecing it together. It was interesting to think that the lower class of the House had private lives and secrets past serving.  
  
Wakaba slowly nodded, her eyes finally rising up to meet his. A slight breeze tugged at the hair so carefully pulled into ribbons, teasing free a silky strand to fall across her cheek. Without thinking, Hisoka took that last step between them, his fingers playing against her soft skin as he brushed the hair back behind her ear.  
  
"What about you, Wakaba?" He whispered faintly, "Do you meet someone out here?"  
  
Again, there came the faintest hint of a nod, as if fearful any movement might cause him to retract his hand.  
  
"Every night, I've meet you here," She whispered back, just as soft, her hand moving up to cover the back of his as it lingered against her face, "in my dreams."  
  
Senses filled him like a cup.  
  
-Care-  
  
Rubbing against his mind like velvet, purring with feelings that were as familiar as his own.  
  
-Compassion-  
  
Until they reached something inside of him that resounded back, echoing and rising like meeting tides.  
  
-Love, hope-  
  
How his arms found their way around her, how he was suddenly embracing the one person who had ever shown him human kindness, leaving him reeling in emotions so pure, they surely had a light of their own, he did not know. But for a moment, that was all there was. He was lost in the warm press of her delicate body against his, the fabric of their clothing caressing in a hushed whisper as he allowed himself this small pleasure.  
  
She was talking, but her words seemed a dream away. In the intoxication of it all, he was only dimly aware that she was asking him to return to her room with her. The surprise of that was only matched by the answer that spilled from his lips.  
  
"Yes."  
  
Her embrace around his waist tightened. "I must go find Arisu." She whispered against his chest.  
  
"That the name of the girl you're looking for?"  
  
She nodded. Kissing her lightly on the forehead, he reluctantly released her. "I'll find her. You go inside before the night chill gives you another fever." Before she could voice any argument, he slipped away from her, walking down into the courtyard.  
  
His warmth lingered around her and she sighed, happy and feeling more alive then she ever had.  
  
"Be safe." She called faintly, watching him vanish through the arch of the courtyard before slowly making her way back inside.  
  
~~  
  
Hisoka moved across the courtyard path, the full trees casting ripple like shadows around him. His mind and heart was racing. His empathy had always been a curse, causing him to shy away from human contact and especially the touch of another. But never had he imaged the blessing it could be when that contact awoke tender feelings. More intimate then bedside whispers, he could see into her very soul and did not find it lacking. She loved him and it was honest. For the first time in a long time, a smile lingered on his face, giving his green eyes a tender look.  
  
On the path up ahead, under a large and ghostly looking tree, he saw the silhouettes of a couple. The taller one, wore a long white jacket, its ivory color seemed to be stained with blood under the touch of the moon. Stark, silvery white hair, shone with the same light. In his arms, he held a smaller woman, with long dark hair and a very feminine figure. Vaguely, Hisoka realized he recognized her, having seen her once or twice with Wakaba.  
  
-That must be Arisu.-  
  
He watched the pair, unsure of how to approach them and interrupt the intimate moment that was occurring. From the side, he could see that the man's lips were pressed against her neck, giving her a deep lover's kiss. Her eyes seemed glassy, her mouth trembling as her arms went slack in the embrace, falling weakly to her side.  
  
A strange feeling breathed upon the air. A sensation unlike anything he had ever felt and it caused him to take a step back, eyes wide. It was like the sent of a candle's smoke once it had been blown out and he could almost hear the malevolent hiss that strangled away the light. Yet he couldn't turn away.  
  
The silver haired man drew back from the kiss, his lips full and red. In a blur of motion too fast for Hisoka to follow, a ghostly white hand rose up and grabbed the very same neck he had just been kissing, tossing the body to the side, like a broken doll.  
  
/You've seen something you shouldn't have./ A male voice pierced into his mind like a white hot iron. The man straightened himself to a truly impressive height, turning in an almost lazy manner to face Hisoka. Thin glasses caught the light of the moon like the reflection of hell fire. /The eyes of a killer./  
  
"I-." Hisoka tried to force words past the sudden terror catching his breath. Feelings washed over him like the stare of a serpent, freezing the marrow in his bones. Nothing he had ever sensed, even the hate and fear from his parents, came close to the darkness that threatened to swallow him now.  
  
He stumbled back, his heel hitting against the cobble stones and upsetting his balance. For a moment, the world tilted back and just as quickly, cold arms embraced him, letting him fall half way, his body suspended a breath from the ground. Raising his head up, his eyes locked onto the person holding him from above, his heart and mind racing. It was as if he had been caught up in a nightmare, inside, he was screaming to wake up.  
  
One arm wrapped tightly around his waist, the man lifted the other and almost lovingly caressed the side of his face with those ice cold fingers. Hisoka could see a faint flush of red on the man's cheeks as he lowered snowy lips towards his.  
  
The soft purr of his words raced over Hisoka's lips, a voice that was as chilled and inhuman as the speaker.  
  
"You're too beautiful for a quick death, young one. I want to see your eyes, don't turn away when you start screaming. Look only at me and let me enjoy breaking -him- again through you." A wicked smile curved on his lips, causing them to brush against his. "My most cherished pet, I see why you love this one. It must have been so tempting finding a mortal with the Gift of Empathy. Someone who would sooner or later see you for all the things inside you hide even from yourself. What a dangerous dance, you choose, risking it all to see if in the end he wouldn't find you out and turn away. But it was that hope that he wouldn't that kept you, wasn't it, my, pet? Ahh, you always did love to suffer so."  
  
Hisoka knew the words were not meant for him, but the effect of them was profound.  
  
-Pet? Tsuzuki. It's the same feeling that I get from Tsuzuki. Human emotions lined with something unnatural, but just as real. Is that who he is talking about?-  
  
Things started to click into place.  
  
The man chuckled without humor. "Oh, you didn't know? Even after all the time with him, you couldn't figure out why you'd lose entire nights without memory, why he never stood in strong light, appearing only at night? Or did you even realize it? Would you like to know? Yes, I think you would. I think it's important for you not to die in ignorance, feeling pity and love for the one that has given you to death itself."  
  
His lips pulled back and for a second, Hisoka saw the flash of demon-like fangs. The hand caressing him slide across his face, covering his eyes.  
  
For one terrible moment, everything was deathly silent. Whatever had been blocking his empathy to this point, abruptly fell away and the night erupted into screams. 


	8. Eulogy

/When was it that I first realized my soul had been worn thin? It must have been years and years ago, and suddenly, your face no longer caused me pain, as it wandered the halls of my memories. I can still remember the numb shock I felt when looking out at the night stars, muttering your name and no tears stung my eyes, no heavy weight in my chest. Like the light of the sun, you have left me behind, without even my grief to remind me I once lived.  
  
And now, Hisoka will suffer, just like you did, dearest sister. I don't mean to hurt anyone; it's just that, I don't want to hurt anymore, either. I'm so tired./  
  
An embrace of warmth lifted him from his thoughts, bringing him back enough to feel the painfully sharp pull of hunger. Like a guilty pleasure, it burned inside of him, consuming his entire being. The scent of blood nearby became unbearable and the frail hands reached into the darkness, weakly searching, though he lacked even the strength to open his eyes.  
  
/It was my eyes; did you know that, sister? We both died for the simple fact that my eyes were such a strange color. I, I tried to destroy them, tear them out, when he told me. But this cursed blood that keeps me alive when I should have died long ago, has power of its own. The only scars I shall ever bear are the ones in my mind./  
  
Hours, years, lifetimes, later, he felt himself being rested down, soft fabric cushioning against his stiff back. His hands tried to stay with the warmth, coxing the blood he knew must be close, into himself. But it retreated, leaving him shivering and starved. In its place, came a voice. The familiar tones warmed a different part of him, forcing back the press of darkness like hands pulling open curtains.  
  
"Tsuzuki, can you hear me?"  
  
Unable to force the words past the dry constricts of his throat, he rolled the thoughts back in his mind. Tears stung at his eyes and he was dimly amazed that he had enough of anything left in him to cry.  
  
/Tatsumi?/  
  
A hand softly stroked back his hair and he almost whimpered. Even this tender touch felt like fire against his taut nerves. Tatsumi must have fed recently, to have a touch that burned in his ancient age. Tsuzuki could smell the blood in him and it made his jaw lock tighter, tongue pressing against the back of his teeth in need.  
  
"Yes, it's me, Tsuzuki. Don't ask a lot of questions right now, try to save your strength."  
  
/Where am I?/ Flashes of the coffin lid shutting down make him mentally wince.  
  
"You're safe, for now. You're with me."  
  
/But-/  
  
"I need you to listen to me right now, Tsuzuki." He said, very softly, "Hisoka's in danger, but he's not dead, not yet. Watari's gone to do what he can to help. But right now, the one he needs is you. You need to be there. You're the only one that can stand up to the Master and you know this."  
  
Forgotten Gifts, lingering deep in his mind stirred, resounding to the truth of his elder's words. The turmoil of emotions only weakened the lilac eyed vampire, even the urgent need to rise up and fight for the mortal he had fallen in love with, was edged with sleep. So weak, so very weak. The darkness was whispering to his despair like a lover.  
  
/I need to feed, Tatsumi./  
  
There was no way he could hunt in his condition. Thoughts of the many rats that lurked in the crypt rushed through his mind. He knew, somewhere, under it all, he had the Gift of summoning. Just like Watari, he could call animal familiars. Something as simple as a rat's mind might open to him, even in this drained condition. He tried to focus on that, drawing it from the back of his mind in a paper thin hope, picturing a rat and calling to it.  
  
There was a shifting beside him.  
  
But instead of the scampering of rodent's feet, a shadow passed over his eyes, as someone loomed above him. Feverishly warm flesh pressed against his mouth, spilling liquid fire against his lips. Gasping in shock, his lips parted to the wound, his mouth filling with the kiss of flames. Senses reeling, he was caught up in a strong pulse as it tugged on him and drew him into itself and there was nothing else. It pounded in his ears, encircled his heart until his own weak rhythm took it's tempo as its own. If he thought something, it never reached the surface of this undertow. There was only this, the feeling unlike anything he could ever give words.  
  
His hands reached up and gripped the flesh, hugging it tighter as his teeth sank into the offered wrist, opening new wounds over the already healing one. No images came from the shadows, no song with the rhythm, only the impossibly intoxicating taste as it coursed through his veins.  
  
He was only dimly aware of a hand softly cradling the back of his head, and a voice muttering gently  
  
~~  
  
"We all have our Gifts, born of the dark blood."  
  
The finger tip arched up, tracing its way over his forearm in a lazy circle up to his shoulder. A deep red line was left in its wake, tattooing into his skin. It didn't hurt, not yet. It was like the push of a razor, slicing the upper layers, but not quite touching the veins and nerves underneath. It was the pressure and the promise of pain to come and that made it so much worse.  
  
"Don't touch me!" Hisoka screamed, trying to pull back. The wires, thin as twine, twice as strong as metal, encircled his entire body, strapping him firmly in place. Rivulets of crimson blood blossomed around the lines they ran into his flesh. The sight of it seemed to excite the silver haired man, looming above him, a wicked gleam shone in his eyes. Unrelenting, the finger continued its slow ballet. The young green eyed man couldn't turn to look, but the methodical rhythm hinted a method to the finger's motion. He could feel an intricate design being given life against his flesh.  
  
"That traitorous Watari can summon all manners of birds, connecting with them so they do his bidding. He's so easy to control. Catch one of his enthralled birds in a silver cage and he remains powerless until its release or its death." His face pressed closer to the youth, his hand moving up as the fingers continued their dance up his arm, like feathers with serrated tips.  
  
"Now Tatsumi is a very rare case, being a Master of Shadows, he can bend and fold the darkness like so much paper." His words rolled off his tongue in thick syllables, aloof and captivating. Glass-like nails cut into Hisoka's arm as they rounded back down to his exposed chest. Encouraged by the whimper of pain that followed, the vampire grinned with a flash of fangs and joined the last of the lines together in a half circle, right above the boy's clavicle  
  
"Believe it or not, Tsuzuki and I are similar. While I have the Gift of carving death curses into the flesh of the living, he gives death to those closest to him without so much as lifting a finger. Beautiful, isn't it?" His voice lowered, dropping to a level that was almost too low for Hisoka's mortal hearing to catch. "It was that aura of melancholy, like a soft mist of darkness and mortality that first drew me to him. But once I saw those eyes," A shiver of excitement ran through him. A feeling that echoed in Hisoka, awaking the first stirs of a connection between the two. More then empathy, it was like he was a puppet and this demon held the strings connected to his very soul. "I enjoyed drinking the life from him and to my added delight, when he was born into the Darkness, he was so shrouded by the past, he couldn't claim his Gifts."  
  
"But then you came along." All the pleasure dropped from his voice in a heartbeat. "You, who are far to beautiful for a quick death and who is undeserving as one of my immortal children." Leaning his head forward, brushing his icy cheek against Hisoka's, he whispered against his ear. "You shall be my puppet and I shall dangle you in front of him, renewing the despair which of late has been dimming, and once I have broken that foolish hope he sees in you." Light fingers pressed to the other side of his face and a like the flash before lighting hit, Hisoka knew, "And then I shall cut the strings."  
  
The last of the curse settled into his soul like a second skin, sealing away hope. He would die.  
  
"Yes, oh yes you will, be most assured of that. But as a final twist." Sneering, the silvery devil drew back and pressed his fingers over the emerald gems before him, forcing the lids down to cover them. "You won't remember any of this."  
  
~~  
  
"Hisoka!"  
  
Trembling, his eyes flew open, unable to focus on the face before him.  
  
"Hisoka, oh thank God." Something wet was pressing against his forehead and was blissfully cool. "Try to hang in there, ok?" The voice was familiar and he knew it to be Wakaba. Desperately he wanted to ask her what had happened. His memories were a blur and he felt a fear he had never known.  
  
He must have tried to sit up, because he could feel gentle, but firm hands pressing against his shoulders. Other servants milled around, he could hear their voices but couldn't understand their words. Only Wakaba's compassionate voice reached him in the haze of sickness.  
  
"When you didn't come back last night, we went looking for you. One of the stable hands found you against the base of the giant court tree this morning. You've taken a horrible fever, it only now broke. Please try to rest. The doctors don't think it's serious, just a mild flu, but you need sleep."  
  
Hisoka tried to rise against the hands holding him. -Last night? Hadn't he been with her last night? Kissing under the red moon.- He hadn't gone anywhere near the courtyard. He had been with her! Didn't she remember?  
  
"Hisoka! Please, you mustn't! Bring the medicine the doctors left, be quick!"  
  
A second later, the cold thin rim of a glass was being pressed to his lips, slipping between them. A pungent odor filled his nostrils as he tried to pull away from drinking it. A hand slipped against the back of his head, holding him. He made the mistake of trying to voice a protest and the bitter lemon flavored liquid spilled down his throat. It dulled the flesh as it ran over it, leaving his mouth and throat feeling numb. Heavy sleep tugged at his eyes, the combination of feverish daze and drugs too much for him.  
  
The hands slide away and the bed rose up to cradle his back.  
  
He had been with her last night. Had the illness caused him to wander away from the main house?  
  
-With her, under the red moon.- 


	9. Fever

The room was still, quiet and empty. There was no soft moonlight to cast through the small enforced windows and the stars pinpoints were lost behind murky clouds. In total darkness, the young man lay; sweat beading on his forehead like blooming buds. His chest rose and fell under the thin sheet in the steady but weak rhythm of sleep. What nightmares caused his brow to furl wasn't too great of a mystery. The red iron hot bands of the curse were bright against his pallid skin. It was pulsing with the life of the Master's heart, slowly constricting its captor's life force.

To him, the scene was played out as if by soft candle light. There was little a vampire could miss in even the blackest of pitch. Night had always been such a kind bondage to its children.

Tsuzuki watched him, attracted and repelled by the warm smell of his beloved mortal. Since the very first time the emerald eyed imp had intoxicated him with such a show of passion and drive, the vampire always wondered if the thrill wasn't the fact he could rob such a fire with none but a kiss of his fangs. There was a type of poetry to snuffing out the candle's light before it could fade. That way, in memory, one would always recall its brightness, never its failing.

But such thoughts were short lived, mere flights of a weak will. Never once had he drank from this one, fearing that the frail hold he managed over the boy's empathy would break. He never wanted to know what this one would see when he looked into his soul. Nothing would destroy him as completely nor make him as complete.

"Hisoka."

The sleeping form stirred, the blonde hair stuck to his forehead as his head turned to look around the room. He couldn't see anything without the kind lending light, those beloved eyes remained unfocused, glazed over with the drugs he had been fed to fight the continuous fever.

"Hisoka."

The name glided on the silence, parting it like a hand that drew the boys face in the direction in which Tsuzuki stood, a shadow against shadows.

The boy's tension drained from him, replaced by a look of the faintest relief and recognition. He settled his head back against the sweat-dampened pillows. "Oh, it's you. I was wondering how long it would take you to show up here, uninvited, might I add."

"I find it amazing that even short of breath, you can sound like such an imp. Is that anyway to greet a concerned friend?"

Hisoka's brow furled, his eyes squinting in the darkness towards the formless voice. "Don't flatter yourself. My illness," he paused, drawing in a hard won breath, "is none of your business. Softer than the silence engulfing him, loneliness, like a faint perfume drifted against his senses. "Tsuzuki?"

-Despair-

"It is my business." Came the reply, conveying with it the stronger scent of morose.

Hisoka made to rise up from his bed, gripping the pillows more like they were constraints to be freed from than objects of comfort. "Why can I sense what you're feeling?" He asked, eyes closing from the pain, part real, part sensed.

-Defeat-

"It's harder to shield from a clouded mind. Ironically so." Footsteps fell in the darkness, drawing closer to the bed. Hisoka could sense the movement and for reasons he couldn't grasp, he felt an unrational fear for the older man. It grew with each step, growing in his mind, until he screamed; "Don't touch me!" /Don't make me feel it/

Tsuzuki drew back his hand, instead choosing to kneel at the side of the bed.

"Please…don't touch me…" Hisoka breathed, inching away from the feelings collecting next to him until his side pressed against the cold wall. "I never…felt it from you." He closed his eyes tight, causing the unshed tears to flow down his cheeks.

"Hisoka…"

"The severity of your emotions pierces my soul. What are you that I never felt this…this before? No human could live with that crushing their hearts, it's madness you breathe."

Tsuzuki rocked back on his heels, resting his weight against the backs of his shoes. He lowered his head, closing his eyes from the sight of the boy's tears. "I'm sorry. No matter what you think, you must understand. It is my business. No matter what has passed between us before now, you are my business. I seemed doomed to forever bring innocent souls to feed my master." A heartbroken smile, deep as a scar and as shallow as a reflection, crossed his face like an after thought. "And no, no human could live with such pain. That, I believe, is one of the reasons my master gave me a heart that could not be crushed, no matter what the cost to my soul."

Across from him, the breathing had picked up in speed. He could hear the heart frantic inside of him, knowing that it beat now only at the grace of his master.

Frozen in that moment, it was crystal clear. His redemption sat dying across from him, the way his sister had, the way everything he had ever believed in had. Slowly, painfully, and he, he had wanted so badly to do anything, stood unable to act.

/I can't save him. I can't save anyone./

Behind him, the shadows seemed to pull to the corner, condensing in on themselves until the small reflection of glasses peered out from the darkest point.

/He's damned to die. There isn't anything I can do./ The kneeling figure lower his head further, cupping his face with his hands.

/You can't see the strength in yourself./

Out loud, Tsuzuki laughed softly. "I know just what kind of strength rests in me. Don't for a second fool yourself that it is a noble thing."

"Who are you talking to?" There was anger in that familiar voice now. Anger that thinly veiled feared and confusion.

/He dies then, a sacrifice for yourself pity./

"I can't do this thing that you ask me! Should he die simply because the devil saw in him something worth admiring?" Warm arms wrapped around him, embracing him. If Hisoka could see his newest guest, Tsuzuki couldn't guess. Time had seemed slow, as if he had all the time to feel the hands pulling his away from his covered face. Centuries of time to stop the velvety cool hands from lifting his face away from his chest, to slowly reveal to his tear stained eyes the boy cowering in the corner before him. Endless time to understand the words whispered against his ear. Silent words, meant only for him, words that smelled of the grave.

"He's already dead, Tsuzuki. But you see life in him still, don't you? Under that soft, oh so soft skin, you see the life trapped. You see the heart beating within the one the Master carved." The hands dropped away from his face, leaving cold prints lingering on his flushed cheeks.

"Do what you want. Give him true death or torture him and yourself for however long the master deems fit. I have already done too much."

In the silence that followed, Tsuzuki watched himself raise up like one would watch a stranger. Those weren't his hands moving to rest on the edge of the bed. It wasn't his face lowering towards the youths, breathing in his fear like the most delicate of scents. It couldn't possibly be his lips kissing the dream that was his neck. The shadow lord had been right; he could feel the life fighting under the burning fever that was his master's power. So close, its throbbing pulse caused the flesh to hit against his eager mouth, over and over again.

It seemed like he had forever, forever bathed in that warmth.

/…no…please…/


	10. Sacred Love

/For some people, they share happiness when they love someone because that's what love means to them. Did you ever care for me? Didn't it ever occur to you that sharing my pain with you was the purest thing anyone could have given you? That I could give you? I showed you a world inside me that no one, not even my half-brother, was allowed to reach. In a way, I shared a part of it with all my children, but you, you were special.

Inside you was the same anguish that I recognized in myself. In my own way… misery loves company.

I thought you'd understand.

I doubt you remember now, it was an age ago, to say the least. But we did have our dance, didn't we/

In the darkness, the voice was a light all it's own. It was tangible and as he walked, it was the voice that led him against the endless silence of forever. He knew the voice and he knew the place to which he traveled. It was the memories inside of him, the part of him that belonged to his master. The thing in his soul that fueled his unnaturally long life. Under his feet, the nothingness gave way to the smooth gray steps of a church. Unable to stop himself, he walked on, knowing the nightmare that waited at the end of the path.

The steps lead up to a cathedral that seemed to rise forever in the night sky. At the very top, the steeple's cross stood framed in a rich full, red, harvest moon. Turning his head up, the way he had all those countless years ago, he felt the same dizziness he had then. The night chill was as real and the irrational hope was the same.

Step by step, he ascended the stairs, slowly at first, lightly caressing the handrail, then faster until he was taking them two-by-two.

/What are you playing at/ He asked, though his lips did not move.

The doors stood open before him, allowing the night breeze in to the chapel. The stain glass adorning the tall walls looked unexpectedly empty without the sunlight breathing to life their vivid colors. It seemed foreboding and held none of the comfort he was use to. Even the silence, broken only by the flickering hisses of the candles, was heavy. Yet the reason for his coming here weighted on him more, pushing his steps forward with a single-mindedness that was broken only when he noticed a figure in white already kneeling at the base of the altar's cross.

/I/ Answered the voice in his head, rolling with its deep tone and arrogance. /I, play at nothing, my dearest Tsuzuki. It was you who started this game. Tsk, tsk./ The man rose up from the floor, with deliberate grace and ease that let Tsuzuki know he hadn't been startled by the younger man's intrusion. /You just had to try and taste him, didn't you? Him, who I had marked./

"Excuse me." Tsuzuki said out loud, as he stopped a few steps before the man. The words were so much younger than his voice now, though he would die only a few weeks from now. It was the voice of a mortal with something left in him that gave his voice an undertone of emotion. To his ears, it sounded muffled as if in memory they had lost some of the volume they were once carried with.

There was no use fighting against it, the scene would play out as it always did. Once, Tsuzuki had wondered if his master picked this particular reverie because it was the first time they had met, or if it was because it was in these next few minutes that Tsuzuki would doom everything he had ever loved, to die.

Nothing he could do now could change that fatal past. In his mind, he willed every muscle in his body to extend his tongue and bite down until his mortal blood flowed freely from it but instead…

"…I was just…"

The man turned to him. The white baby's breath of his hair fell perfectly over his right eye. The other, through the frames of his glasses, was silver. A silent tear finished its trail down his face, catching the candle light once before falling to the floor.

"How embarrassing." He said quietly as he wiped the remains of the tear away.

/Don't do this, Muraki! Don't make me remember./

"Not at all." Tsuzuki answered quickly, flustered at the emotion showed to him by a stranger.

"Was there something you needed to ask me? Are you from the hospital, by chance?"

"Uh…no… I came here--."

"—To pray, of course, how silly of me." With a turn of the head, he gazed over his should to the cross, an unreadable smile on his face. "I always assume everything and everyone has to do with my work. I suppose you could say that I'm a bit obsessed."

In his head, Tsuzuki was screaming as silent as it was heartbreaking. The clothes he wore were covered with dust from the street. His hair hadn't been washed in ages and he was skinny enough to be some farmer's scarecrow. How had this man mistaken him for someone important? If he had stopped to think, he always believed he would have been suspicious of the angel standing so dream-like before him. Would it have mattered?

"You…you're from the hospital? Are you… a doctor, by chance?" The fragile hope in his voice must have sounded like a plea, for the man turned to his attention back to the youth.

In reality, there had been a long silence that had followed in the memory. Muraki filled it now with his own words.

/You shouldn't be so hard on yourself, Tsuzuki. I can feel your rage from here./ The perfect, pale face remained still and beautiful as he regarded the man before him. /Really, you never stood a chance. Do you think I'm the type to enter something as useless as a church, unless I knew how to make my own use of it/

"My name is Kazutaka, Muraki. Dr. Muraki, I work at the hospital." Was all that needed to be said. The younger man, violet eyes widened with relief and so much hope, moved forward and to bow low before him.

"Please Doctor, my name is Asato Tsuzuki. I have a sister…and, she's, she's very sick. We can't afford to get her treated."

Muraki's face remained emotionless, but his words had been kind. "I'm a very busy man, Tsuzuki. This is why you find me at a church at such an odd hour. Night seems to be the only time I can get anything done. Where do you live? I'll see if I can't stop by tomorrow night after work and take a look at your sister. It would be the… right thing, to do."

/It was that pitifully easy./ The rich velvet voice chuckled in his mind, savoring the moment as much as Tsuzuki was reviled by it. /And I did come by, the next night, didn't I, my dear/

This time the voice that answered wasn't angry like it had been. It was as empty and broken as the man using it. /I can feel the gratitude I feel for you then like a second skin. I thought you were the answer to my prayers./

Again, the laughter, thick enough to choke on. /Who said the devil can't answer prayers/

Around the pair, one still bowing, the other standing over him like a white tower, the church began to fade. Like the cobwebs of a dream once awakened, it simply dissolved back in to the black sea of nothingness. Alone, the two stood, suspended silhouettes in the darkness.

Tsuzuki rose with utter defeat written on his eternal features. The anger had costs him as all passionate emotions do. In the end, the blame always came back on him. It was always his fault.

Muraki closed the distance between them, running a hand against the line of the other man's chin, tilting it up to meet his gaze.

"Ah, still such beautiful eyes. Every time I see them, it's like I have to relearn how to breathe around such a marvel." With his hand lingering against Tsuzuki's skin like a bad omen, Muraki caressed the flesh with his thumb. "A continual, disappointing, pleasure." Each syllable brought him closer and closer, until the two men stood so close, a thought would cause their bodies to touch.

A whisper against his ear spoke like thunderclaps down Tsuzuki's spine. The black underneath them bled to crimson as bright as a fever, the color of Muraki's curses. He had to close his eyes against the growing light, letting the words wash over him like wind-blow sand.

"Tell me, Tsuzuki, how does he taste? Can you taste his life slipping away, as you are trapped here with me, unable to stop your body from filling a need that has gone too long unheard? In a matter of minutes, he will die by your hand."

The laughter came in echoes, no starting point, no ending, rising and falling but never fading. It engulfed every other sense until Tsuzuki was drowning in it. All that remained was the intolerable heat of the man pressed before him and the sorrow.

From behind him, a second pair of hands, small and tender encircled his waist. It was as if a second star had risen in the red darkness of Muraki's power. And it was golden, with oh so green eyes.

The cool soft press of a shorter body filled the space against his back like a cold towel against a feverish head.

/Tsuzuki… you baka…fight…

Fight./


	11. Rest

Hisoka would die. Nothing could stop that now. Tsuzuki had tried to break his Master's hold on the boy's soul and he would be repaid a thousand fold for the mistake. Dimly, with each weakening breath and hot mouthful, Tsuzuki felt his own heart skipping. He was tangled in the threads of the boy's curse, like sargassum weeds dragging both of them to their deaths. The imagines faded and his master's laugh along with it. Faintly, over the sound of his own screaming heart;

/Tsuzuki, with you, through you, I found my vengeance. As you die, so does the last of the hatred I felt for this world. You, who had the eyes of an angle and the face of my brother. I was cheated his death, but you…/

In the blood was silence and darkness; darkness that was tangible and inescapable. It smelled of rain, tasted of ash and everywhere was the soft calling of a violin in the distance. Numbly he felt his mouth slip away as he fell to the floor, a cool body falling against him, the sound of rushed footsteps and shouting. All he felt this as if through another person's senses. The darkness was all that was left now. He turned his head and focused as something firm brushed against the side of this hand. White snow, no, white petals fell all around him. The sound of scissors snipping brought him to his knees. Sitting up, he found himself in a garden under a darkened sky filled with row after row of deathly pale roses. As if with a will of their own, a pair of rusted scissor made the slow motions of cutting the roses from the bush, sending them crashing in to an ever growing pile. With rising horror, a familiar and lovely scent reached him. Blood pooled around the cut roses, bleeding in a stream that watered the uncut bushes, giving them life.

"I…I never wanted to kill anyone!" He screamed, backing away from the grizzly scene. "I never…" The once burning violet fire of his eyes became lit with a smoldering and dark purpose. Looking down, he saw his colorless arms wrapped with the scarlet binds of his master's power. Like so many strings, he lifted them from his skin, ignoring the burning pain and entwined them tightly through his fingers. "If I am not allowed to exist, if I was never meant to be here…" With each word his conviction grew just as the last parts of him that were human died. "Then let us go together Muraki." In answer, the skies seemed to part shadows and a figure that had haunted his waking dreams for lifetimes came stumbling through the fog. Gasping, blood dripping from his perfect lips as Tsuzuki dug his trembling nails in to the cords of power that lie in his palms, Muraki gave a half smile.

"For love?" He asked, breathless. "Do you drag me with you because you cannot stand to face this darkness alone?" Muraki gave a mocking laugh, weakly falling to his knees. "Even now, in your moment of Awakening, you are still the same, scared, naive boy that approached me years ago. Do you think you can take my empire? And then what? You and your little boy live happily ever after? Do you think scars like yours can be covered with my blood?" He screamed, voice rising in rage.

The sky above began to come down in a snowfall of ash, uncovering a heaven made up in colors to put a sunset to shame. Muraki's power had always been founded in death; Tatsumi was shadow, Watari, lighthearted and wonderful Watari, had the power of the birds he loved so dearly but for Tsuzuki there could be only one form his soul could take in this other life. Fire.

A great coil of flame came burning from the heavens, consuming the oxygen around it in a sucking vortex of heat. The fire was the size of planets, the size of eternity, it was the entirety of Tsuzuki's pain given form and it was burning.

Dawning realization crept into Muraki's eyes, horror drew his lips open. "You seek to destroy us all!"

"Born in darkness, I will burn away everything." Tsuzuki bowed his head. He could feel the air a blaze all around him, chocking him. He would burn Muraki, burn himself burn each and every poor soul caught up in the bloodline. All of them. –Forgive me Watari. Tatsumi, I know if you were here, you'd disapprove of my rashness, but,- he smiled softly, -I know when this is over, you will comb hell trying to find me so that you can lecture me and then we'll all be together, again-

Ahead of him, somewhere in the flames that were quickly consuming the darkness, Muraki bent over, his flesh burning into his clothing. "Saki!" He bellowed, drawing the fire deep in to his lungs. For a moment, time seemed to freeze.

Tsuzuki feel to his knees, mirroring the image of his Master dying before him. Wicked flames ate his hair, his face. He could feel the flesh around his eyes swelled into blisters that blinded him and yet, he smiled as he felt the last trace of his Master's power burn away from his fingers. "Finally," He whispered, pulling apart his bleeding lips. Had he breath left to laugh, he may have. But such things were past him now and would be forever.

Hisoka slipped in and out of consciousness many times over the long weeks that followed. It would be Wakaba's face that he awoke to, hair messed up and eyes dark from lack of sleep. At first, no one would tell him anything of what had happened; though later he was to learn that the town had talked of nothing else for months afterwards. He knew there had been a fire as was evidence in the twisting burn marks that wrapped around his body although no one could explain how he had been burned as if with a designed iron. The fire had completely destroyed his family's estate, consuming his mother and father while they slept. The news was by far the happiest he had ever heard. The small part of him that felt loss was similar to an empty socket where a rotted tooth has been pulled from.

"There is one thing."

Wakaba looked up from her needle work with an intensive smile. "Only one?" She laughed. "You're the only person alive that could go through such a life-altering few weeks and come away with only one lingering question."

Hisoka ignored her comments and continued to glaze out the window. He had recently purchased a small summer home. Wakaba had wanted one closer to the village, but upon driving by the secluded cottage, he felt he must have it and she made little protest. "I seem to remember a man." He swallowed roughly at the memory, rubbing one of the exposed scars on his arms.

"A man?" She asked, placing down her needle work.

"It's nothing." He blurted out, a blush rising to his cheeks. "A dream, perhaps." Noticing she was still watching him intently, Hisoka felt his embarrassment grow. "I'm heading out for a walk." He muttered and made his exit.

Outside, his feet clicked quickly over the cobblestone road. There was still an amount of uncomfortable ness around Wakaba he couldn't talk around. –Stupid girls. Why do they have to confuse everything so that a man can't have a quiet thought to himself?- As the cottage faded from the distance, he tucked his hands in to the large pockets of his overcoat, looking around at the changing of the seasons. Ahead, the sun dipped against the horizon, warming the skies in deep reds and purples. Lost in half remembered images and confusing feelings, he barely marked the approach of footsteps behind him. It was, after all, a well used road for those wishing to take a more visually pleasing trip to town. Without looking back, Hisoka shifted his steps more to the side of the road, allowing ample space for him to be overtaken. Everything had been so simple for him since the fire. No controlling parents, no more nightmares and yet...

He glanced up at the sky. Such a familiar sense, these red colors…

/-Tsuzuki!- The voice yelled over the flames. A voice filled with life and anger. –Baka! What do you think you're doing!?-

Through watering eyes, the blurry image of bare feet running towards him filled Tsuzuki's eyes. Kneeling in front of him, a familiar face, greeted his. –We're leaving, now!-

Weakly, he shook his head, smearing the tears that feel freely from his eyes in to the ash on the ground. "That's enough, Hisoka. I have freed you from this curse. Leave me here. I have lived a very long time and that's enough. It's enough." The words were so weak he doubted the boy could hear him and for that he was grateful. I'm so tired, he thought, so very tired.

Strong cool arms wrapped around him, pulling him from the ground and gripping him in a tight hug. Blinking through the pain and the fire, Tsuzuki stared straight ahead, shock filling his face. The arms gripped him tighter, as if it was Hisoka that was clinging to Tsuzuki for dear life. –Please! Please…I-I don't want to be alone anymore!- Painful images of his family shunning him, a life filled with shame because he was different, shame because he was always somehow less, filled Hisoka to the point of breaking.

Tsuzuki had been wrong, again. Perhaps there had been a twisted wisdom in his late master's words. /Didn't it ever occur to you that sharing my pain with you was the purest thing anyone could have given you?/ He could not save Hisoka, not like this. The flames seemed to fan away from the pair, the skin began knitting together on his bared bones and for once in forever, Tsuzuki smiled without a sense of bitterness. "Can I..I stay, with you?"

Hisoka shook himself, laughing nervously. "Who wouldn't have strange dreams after almost being burned alive?" Laughing louder to cover his feeling of unease, Hisoka decided it would be best to turn back to his home.

Turning, he was met by a tall man, with dark hair and a childlike smile. Hisoka stopped and the pair stared at each other in silence. Smiling widening with each passing second, the tall man approached the younger and gently pulled the collar of Hisoka's jacket up tighter. "You know, if you stay outside too long, you'll catch a cold." His slender fingers brushed against the underside of his chin and he chuckled as the young man pulled back from the touch, blushing.

With a look of pure joy, the man waved away Hisoka's embarrassment and lightly walked past him. Recovering from his surprise, Hisoka turned and yelled after him. "Do I know you?"

The man stopped and without turning around, answered. "Oh you could say that. You know me, you've known me and very, very soon, you'll know me again. Very soon, Bon. I'm going to come wake you up and together," he looked over his shoulder and smiled sweetly, "I don't believe there's anything we can't accomplish." With a short backwards wave, the man continued down the road, walking with sure steps to a castle that was covered in thorns.


	12. Preview: Rising

It was the scent after a storm, the taste of new pennies, it was the most beautiful sunset he had ever seen and for a moment, he almost forgot what he had come here to do.

_-Not human-_

Oh no, never human, he knew that. Better now than ever. What he was about to do was unforgivable.

The graveyard before him stretched on a heartbeat short of forever. From the growing shadows along the tree line, he watched and waited.

He was a master now. It had taken three years but there was no denying the bloodlust that rose inside of him. It was time to solidify his power base - something that couldn't be done until he claimed the last part of him that screamed of his fading humanity.

Tsuzuki watched the blonde set a handful of flowers on the fresh grave. He couldn't see his face from here but he knew those heartbreakingly green eyes were filled with tears.

_I'll save you from your grief, __boyo__. Even if I have to break you down to rebuild you._

-Coming Next Month-

/Phoenix Rising/ - A sequel to _Thorns of Twilight_


End file.
